Beard Stroke

I’m a poor blogger – intermittent enough to be seen less than one of those comets that so excite astronomers!

For me blogging, doing this, is akin to taking a trip into my own secret midnight garden, a place where only I go – occasionally there are signs of other visitors, but they are few and far between, and they generally tidy up after themselves.

I initially compared blogging as being like standing on a dimly lit stage in a huge dark auditorium – maybe out in the darkness there are people listening, but maybe there isn’t.

Do I scribble to obtain clicks of approval, second guessing what I think is trending and popular – and then do I chase more clicks and start an ever-escalating need for validation from people I’ve never met, and am very unlikely ever to…?

Or do I let myself vent because it is a simple release?

I scribble because it helps me organise my thoughts (not that reading these posts would give credence to such a claim), once it’s been written down I can process the thoughts, agree, disagree, expand, retreat and even dismiss.

I create a reference point in time purely for myself – well mostly for me…

I’m struggling with the whole getting published thing, it is my quest, my holy grail, and this should be a record of my process, but mostly it’s not.

I wite because I genuinely enjoy it, the whole process, the blank staring at the wall frustration seeking that one word that you can taste but cannot articulate, the frantic typing – hands desperately trying to keep pace with my imagination;  all of it gives me pleasure.

My product I think could be improved, but I’m sure all who write fail to reach true satisfaction with their work – so for a scribbler of words to say that is the next best thing to a true throw away comment I’ll ever make!

Covid-19 is taking its toll – sanity for many is a vaguely distant memory.

For me, the distinction between workplace and home has now disappeared – the blessing of working from home has borne strange fruit, an outcome I genuinely never expected.

I used to seek my sanctuary in my ‘study/mancave’, but this is where I now earn a living, obtain money to pay my bills, and as such it is no longer that bolt hole from the realities of life – it’s just not.

I will adapt, I will because the urge to vent my imagination at this desktop machine surrounded by my books will eventually win out – normality of a kind will return – it will.

But until it does, I will accept what is happening, acknowledge the change that is my new (first world problem) reality.

Volume 4 has been held back, restrained by so many things, that now I have acknowledged my issues, maybe the path to recovery and productivity is closer than we think?

Stay safe – keep sane!

Because I can!

I’ve mentioned before that Dublin warbler and his ‘roller-coaster’ instruction – so we will accept that premise as a given.

I write because I enjoy it – simple, but true.

I get excited when people read my scribbles – I do, and if they enjoy it, I get happier than a dog with two tails – that’s how I roll folks.

Writing is so many things to me, it is a cathartic outlet for creative frustrations, it is a release of emotional tensions and the purging of banshee ideas from my imagination onto (metaphorical) paper.

But above all it is an activity I truly enjoy.

Maybe after my fifty third international bestseller I’ll become a bit jaded – maybe… but I hope not.

I have been rereading and editing for the last two weeks and it’s reinforced my belief that my tales have merit and value.

Thomas Payne is a good story, it is an emotional journey that will cause you to wipe the odd tear from your eye, tears that Magic will have you again seeking the box of tissues.

My stories are good emotionally sympathetic tales of the darker crueller aspects of life – not as slasher horror stories knee deep in gore, but as intelligent engaging tales of decisions and their intended and unintended consequences.

I discuss and describe rape, the aftereffects and the emotional suffering that continually echoes with the victim, I also tell of the resilience of surviving.

We discuss sexuality, we trundle into same sex relationships to confirm that love is indeed love – and the loss of that love hurts all without favour.

We throw sexual exploitation into the mix, and we add self determination to make the best of what a less than perfect world has to offer as a counter discussion…

Thus far every tale I’ve written has contained a heavy dosing of emotional injuries and how people survive them.  From the distant mountains of Afghanistan, to the city scape of New York, and innumerable stops in-between I’ve waxed lyrical about these injuries, and the coping mechanisms that folk use. 

Maybe it’s my subgenre – my theme – or indeed maybe it’s not…

I mentioned that I’m proud of my tales, and I am.

Yes, the tales are what they are – the subject matter what it is, but the journey is more that worth it if you ever get the chance to follow Amy. 

Do it – you won’t’ regret it!

I’m currently scribbling away at volume four, at the tale of our heroine being cast into prison and the adventures that follow.

I’m also (still) looking for an agent – that job opportunity is still unfilled… 

Stay happy, enjoy what it is that you are doing, and hopefully that joy will transfer onto the pages that you write and be enjoyed by those readers that discover your works!

Stay safe – remain sane!